by dint bedazzle
posted by murmurists at 1:22 pm
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
About Me
- Name: murmurists
- Location: Cafe Abdab, City of Dis, United Kingdom
Anthony Donovan is an artist, musician, composer, improviser and writer based in England. He works solo, either as Murmurists or under his own name, and is associated with projects such as Destroyevsky, Ou_pi Golgotha.undead, Spidey Agutter and the.clinamen. An ardent collaborator, he has worked with the likes of John Zorn, Jochen Arbeit, Geoff Leigh, PAS, Steve Beresford and Damo Suzuki. Donovan co-curates the respected labels Classwar Karaoke and suRRism-Phonoethics with Jaan Patterson. His interests are all either obscure or opaque, but morally authentic.
Contact:
dr.anthony_donovan@yahoo.com
Here Abouts
- here we will live
- Dear Diary......
- REAGE, yes
- late, surreal; with klaxon
- red wedge
- triple tripl trpl L L L
- double dubl dbl L L L
- IONESCO EXTRA
- space
- ruthless science. go easy. as 0,1,00,1,0
11 Comments:
This is close to 'as the bishop said to the actress' territory, one of my favourite comic set-ups.
The Reverend Goodbody doing his rounds.
i supose the question that i would like answered is...'what drugs do you use?'
i mean, when i first started blogging, and certainly for the first year, i managed to post a post a day and across several blog sites BUT you sir, BLIMEY are doing f f f f flippin' dozens. how on earth do you do it?
as for vicars, this from AGES ago (sorry about the length and yes, i say that to all the girls!)
The Inestimable Vicar Linkthorpe
Elvis Linkthorpe slid into the Frog and Radiator amid a fugue of marijuana smoke that followed him like a grey cloak. His red eyes gazed at the assembled populace of Fekenham with a slitted paranoia and magenta tinted, biblical suspicion.
"Evening Vicar. A pint of the usual?" declared Arthur Bentwhistle with his normal trombone toned voice that moved with inelegant ease up and down the vocal range like a greased sprocket on a leaky piston.
"Yes please Arthur" replied the addled priest.
Every evening at about eight, when all the sermons had been writ and supplications to god had gathered weary legs and gone back into the cobwebbed dusty draws of eternity to sit and wait until some angel or other found them, and the visits to the local infirmary and the old folks home high on Apple Crust Hill had been dutifully performed, the good reverend Linkthorpe fretted his way into his favourite haunt for a drop of his favourite tipple from the hand of his favourite barmaid, the rotund but delectable Delores Dewhip, with her skin like alabaster and her lips like treasured fruit and those divine breasts that quivered and fell with each guffaw that left those delicious lips.
Of course the good reverend knew that he shouldn't entertain such thoughts and he tried his level best not to but sometimes Satan plays hard ball and God is crap at fielding such wayward thoughts.
His mother hadn't christened him Elvis but had given him the far more heteromorphic sobriquet of Serenade Heathcliffe Austin Linkthorpe. Obviously it was a name that caused him some severe grief throughout his schooldays and well into his teenage years whereupon, by deed poll, he had it changed to Elvis. Then, unfortunately for the newly named gent, the sixties happened and the name Elvis was about as cool as, well, Serenade actually.
He came to the village in the summer of 1969 looking like a refuge from a camp variant of some ghastly hippie commune whereupon, declaring his love for everyone and anything that either moved or didn't, including trees, he encamped to the local Church, St. Whipplemore's, and where he remained, preaching the gospel according to Mark, Luke, John, Matthew and Bob Dylan.
The villagers took him to their unflinching bosoms and forgave him his little peccadilloes after all everyone has their funny ways don't they and just because the local vicar had a lustful eye on the local barmaid, smoked pot and swore like a back street abortionist, what of it?
As the old Fekenham saying goes..."It takes a host of spanners to mend a creaky mill".
{[[Whatever that means?]]}
more tales from Fekenham Swarberry next week
I am with you on that one, Anthony. Beryl Cook on tv recently - thought worth another look. Amazingly free and cheerful lady, too. Bollocks to all that po-faced Van Gogh/Munch stuff.
Hello CJ. Drugs-wise with me, it's aspirin only, mate. But I appreciate your question! I work quickly I think; but am lucky enough to be a house-husband/artist, looking after the kids, whilst Annie does the real toil.
'...Serenade Heathcliffe Austin Linkthorpe...' - bravo! Bonzo Dog interviewed on Stuart Marconi's Freak Zone last Sunday. Am going to post some pics. I love that English Surrealism. Pity about the public school tint; but Neil Innes I did used to rate. I could imagine them in your village, CJ.
I too fulfill the role of house-husband ... or all-purpose punchbag for an amazingly willful (but lovely and funny) 3 year old.
'What drugs do you use?' ... classic question.
Speaking personally, these days, a nice bottle of white does me.
please, i was only joking about drugs. i shouldn't (and don't) do them. never have. fine if folks want to but not for me. 49 years a diabetic is enough drugs for me.
A bottle of white spirits, I was going to add ... oh, I've got a million of them.
Yes, I've always liked the peculiar strain of Surrealism the English come up with.
I 'did' magic mushrooms - once, in 1987. It was unbelieveably fantastic, actually. But I am strong-willed and that was it for me. Never again. And I am happy with that. I pity you with your condition, CJ. I have a friend with that. I hope you have a more manageable, less invasive version. I've had asthma all my life; but it seldom bothers me, being allergy-based, brought on by dogs and horses. My real condition is that of migraine. Hence the aspirin. My personal choice would be a bottle of red, Anthony - but the result is too often a migraine! So I make do with tea, and with cranberry! The odd pint of Guinness features, too, however.
I've developed asthma in recent years ... have always suffered from hay fever, dust allergies and malfunctioning sinuses. I've also developed a violent allergy to cats, which is a real kicker as I love cats.
Acid and speed were my preferred vices ... a puched-in nose and years of dodgy sulphate have helped reduce the sinuses to mere shadows of their former selves.
I vote for Acid and Opium....
and just about anything i could lay my hands on at one point in my life.
though, touched nothing now for around 7 years....having a child, it makes some people grow up, and 'act' responsible....
do rather enjoy a drop of moet now and then though, that's my treat :)
Glad you both came through. I know others who didn't - as you probably do yourselves. I've never been one for altered states. I like this reality too much. I play guitar to relax, to mood-change; or read a book, internet, music, film, work on my stuff. These days, though - with Annie - I more commonly opt for days of humour and general chatting, with a cup of tea and some rich tea fingers, please. Moet is nice, too. Annie and I drank a glass when I proposed. Children are a factor, Inc; and I think your 'act' interpolation is apt, too. My biggest weird-out was the PhD. Sleep deprivation is a fantastic free high - 33 hours awake, and unassisted, too, in Asda, in St. Helens, tripping in front of the semi-skimmed. 19 hours straight hand-feeding A4 into my then arcane printer, only able to print three pages at a time, to avoid crashing, and with 4400+ pages to do! I made the decision - expediency, and low on money - to stock up on cup-a-soup, to keep me going. I had about three of these and was violently-ill, like I've never been, too. I felt and I had been poisoned. I'd probably had a year's supply of E what-have-you in 4 hours. None of that feels heroic; it just makes me re-realise how occluded one can be!
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